Until Delilah by Harlow Layne
Delilah
Shufflingaround Max’s kitchen trying to find everything is a pleasant chore. His kitchen is a dream with black and white veined cream marble countertops and dark wood cabinets and floors. All of the appliances are top of the line and look as if they’ve never been used along with all the pots and pans. The best part is the big picture window along one wall that has a small table with four chairs around it. I could sit and look out of it for days on end.
The backdrop to Max’s house is a stream with a forest behind it. I can’t imagine how beautiful it is in the fall with the leaves changing colors, or in winter with the ground covered in snow.
I’m placing the last few pancakes I’ve made on a plate when the man himself strides into the kitchen and comes to an abrupt halt when he sees me at his counter with a spread of food put out for him. He stands before me in a pair of gray sweatpants, a tight white t-shirt, and barefoot. Damn, is he fine. Is this what most baseball players look like? If so, I need to start paying more attention.
The food I made is my way of apologizing for last night. I took out my frustrations with Bradley on him. Max has done nothing but be kind to me, and I treated him horribly.
“What’s all this?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest with his piercing blue eyes hard like ice, trained on me. I can’t help but watch as his biceps bulge with the movement.
Clearing my throat, I come around the counter to stand in front of him. I have to crane my head up to look him in the eye, but I don’t mind. All my life I’ve had to look up to my dad who stands six-foot-three and if I had to guess, I’d say Max is six-four or five.
“This is my way of apologizing for last night. You took us in when you could have easily dropped us off at a hotel and been done with us. Life hasn’t been easy as of late and I took that out on you.”
His eyes soften as he looks down at me. “This is the first time anyone’s ever cooked in my house.”
I was right in assuming nothing had been used before.
“I hope you don’t mind. I thought a nice breakfast to start the day off right, might help in my apology.” I indicate the pancakes, eggs, and bacon I’d made. Why did he have all this food if he doesn’t cook, though?
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Before he can say anything else, I hold up my hand. “I beg to differ. I need to leave my baggage at the door, but…” Easier said than done. Especially with realizing all the signs I’d missed with Bradley.
“But what Delilah?” He steps closer to me but doesn’t touch me. “You can open up to me. I promise I won’t be like Kari and spread whatever you tell me all over town. I like my privacy as well.”
“Why don’t we get our food and then maybe I can try to explain?” I’m not going to tell him everything, but I’ll tell him enough that he’ll think it’s why I’m where I am now.
Max looks around the room, and then his penetrating gaze comes back to me. “Where’s Beckham?”
“He’s upstairs taking a shower before I have to take him to school.” I look down at the time on my phone and try to predict how early we need to leave here to get to the shelter, and then school from where we are now.
“I can take him. Take you both,” he amends.
“If you’re sure. I don’t want to be any trouble. You’ve already been more than kind.” Surely, he has better things to do with his time than shuttle us around.
“I don’t offer if I don’t mean it.” He picks up a plate and starts to pile food on it. “You and Beckham are never a problem, so get that out of your head.”
I make a plate for Beckham and set it down at the table and then go about making one for me before I sit at the other end of the table from Max.
“I want to say this before Beckham comes down. He knows most of this, but I hate for him to have to relive it.” I take a deep breath and steel myself for what I’m about to say. It will be the first time I’ve admitted this to anyone, and it’s to a stranger no less.
“Okay,” Max nods. “I’ll try not to interrupt.”
“Thank you. Beckham’s father died when he was only a baby. I was depressed for a long time and had no idea where my life was going. I should have moved back to LA to be closer to my family, but I stayed in Biloxi where Jacob was stationed until he was deployed.” I try to clear the emotion from my throat, but it’s no use. It nearly prevents me from speaking it’s so thick as I continue. “When Beckham was three, I met a charming man who promised to give me the world, and I believed him. I was desperate for Beckham to have a father figure and not long after I started dating Bradley, we moved into his house.”
Max’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t stop me. I also hear Beckham upstairs. He must be out of his shower and will soon be down, so I need to hurry up.
“I should have seen the signs of how controlling he was, but I was in denial. I was surprised any man wanted me with a three-year-old attached to my hip. The day after we moved in, I was given a strict list of rules I was to adhere to. Little by little, I slowly started to lose myself as I was kept isolated from the world. The only time I went out was to dinners where I accompanied Bradley. I was to be seen and not heard.
“It changed some when Beckham started school last year, but not for the better. Bradley didn’t like the fact that I had to spend time away from the house, but I wanted to be a part of Beckham’s school. I met a few moms, but we never became what I’d call friends. You’d think with us living with Bradley since Beckham was three, they would have bonded somewhat, but that was the furthest thing from what happened. Bradley would mention often about Beckham being someone else’s child and I think he was jealous.” I shrug, unsure why he was an asshole to my sweet boy. “I hate myself for not leaving sooner. My son is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and he’s so sweet and polite. He never did anything wrong, but Bradley hated him for whatever reason. I never should have put him in a position for him to ever feel that.”
Max reaches across the table and places his hand on mine. “He’s the best kid I’ve ever met. You’ve done a good job with him.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” I point to the light bruising by my eye. “This happened the day I found out I was pregnant.” It’s not a total lie, but Bradley didn’t beat me up because I was pregnant, rather because of the information I’d found out about him. I only found out once I was at the hospital and they checked me out. “I left in the middle of the night. Left behind my phone, the money in my bank account, most of my clothes. Everything to start a new life without him in it, but I’m afraid he’s going to find me, and when he does…”
The veins in Max’s neck stand out as his jaw tics. “I won’t let anything happen to you or your son. I promise you. Can I ask you what this Bradley does?” Max sneers when he says Bradley’s name.
“His family is very powerful in Mississippi, and so is he.” That’s all he needs to know. With what little I’ve given him, it will be too difficult for him to figure out who I’m talking about.
“I don’t want you staying at the shelter anymore.” His hand that’s still on top of mine tightens. “You can stay here until you get a job and on your feet. No one will come looking for you here, and if they do, I have a state-of-the-art security system.”
“Max, you’re too kind, but really we can’t impose on you like that.”
It’s then Beckham comes barreling down the stairs with a big smile on his face. He sits down in the open chair where his plate of food sits.
“Good morning,” Max greets him. “Did you sleep good last night?”
Beckham nods as he takes a bite of his bacon.
“What would you say if I told you, I’m going to take you to school today?” Max beams a smile down at Beckham.
“That would be the best day ever.” Beckham smiles, looking back and forth between me and Max.
“I was just telling your mom, I think the two of you should stay here until she can find a job.”
My eyes narrow and I’m pretty sure a hiss of displeasure comes out.
“Really?” Beckham bounces in his seat.
“Why not? I’ve got plenty of room,” Max sweeps his arm in the air indicating his space. “Would you like to stay here?”
“Yes, please.” My son looks at me with hopeful eyes. “Do you think GiGi and PopPop can visit?”
“We don’t want to be a burden, honey, and Gigi and PopPop are on a trip right now.” He hangs his head, making me feel bad for how long it’s been since he’s seen my parents in person. “Maybe we can FaceTime them, and once they’re back, we can plan a visit.”
I know once my parents learn what happened, they’ll hop on a plane and be here in a day. While I want to see them, I don’t want to answer all the questions they’ll be sure to ask. I’m too ashamed to face them. I have been for a long time.
“You need to finish your breakfast so you’re not late to class. We still need to go by the shelter, so you can change your clothes and grab your backpack for school.”
“Yes, Mama.”
For the rest of breakfast, I try to shoot imaginary daggers at Max, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles and talks to Beckham like he didn’t overstep by talking to my son about living here without me agreeing.
Once breakfast is finished, I gather the plates and start to wash them. I don’t want to leave a huge mess for Max to clean up later, because there’s no way in hell we’re staying here with him.
Looking over my shoulder, I find Beckham and Max looking out the picture window while pointing and talking. “Honey, go grab your shoes and anything else you left upstairs, so we can leave in a few minutes. You don’t want to be late.”
When Beckham runs out of the room and up the stairs, I turn on Max. “After we drop him off at school, we need to continue this.”
“There’s nothing to continue. I have the space and security to house you. If you want to help, you can keep cooking me meals like you did today. Other than when my mom cooks for me, I don’t get many home-cooked meals.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t see what the problem is. I’m nothing like your ex-boyfriend, I promise you. I can promise you won’t be in my way, and I’ll stay out of yours if that’s what you want.” He moves closer until he’s only a few inches away. “It gets lonely here and I could use the company. Plus, it’s only until you get back on your feet. Let me ask you something. Does Beckham have his own room at the shelter?” I can’t form the words to speak, so I only shake my head. “Does he have his own bed?” Again, I shake my head. “And how big is this bed the two of you share?” I clamp my lips together, knowing what he’s going to say after I answer him.
“A twin,” I mumble.
“Surely you’d rather have your son have his own bed to sleep in at night. And yourself?”
Damn it, if he isn’t right.